Lord of the Rinds
by lithorose
Summary: Journey with Frydough Bagpipes as he attempts to throw his uncle's old rind into the glowing green depths of Mount Doo. Rated PG for comic violence.


  
  
Lord of the Rinds   


* * *

**Chapter 1: Fellows to Dinner**   
There was once an out of the way place, now lost to history, which was known as the Fryer. Why it was called the Fryer I do not know, but it was populated by a short people, the Habbits, who generally belonged to one of three categories: Good Habbits, who were taller and fairer; Bad Habbits, who were shorter, darker and hairier, and Quirks; who were mostly harmless if a bit odd. In this land of Habbits there was a particularly wealthy Habbit, Begel Bagpipes, who lived at 666 Bagpipe Lane, the Fryer. Begel was a strange sort, being an equal mixture of Good Habbit and Quirk. He had, in his younger, fresher days been on an adventure. No Habbit in the Fryer had ever been on an adventure, and none ever wanted to. Habbits liked to do the same things every day. But Begel was different. he had been abducted by aliens many years earlier and had somehow brought back an expensive set of Bagpipes when he returned, and had his name changed to Bagpipes. He was quite talkative too, which probably accounted for the name change.   
  
He was now nearing his expiration date, and was going to throw a huge expiration date party for himself. He invited nearly everyone in the Fryer, and everyone had a good time until Begel started to insult them all by playing his antique bagpipes, which the Good Habbits of the Fryer could not figure out. They seemed to be playing good and bad notes at the same time, and were hurting their ears. At last he quit, and disappeared from them. This was quite a trick, and they did not like it. It was different, uncanny, said some. Totally unlike a Habbit, said others.   
  
Begel went back to his rather spacious home. It was built under a large hill, to keep it cool and himself well preserved for a long time. Begel's head was a little fried from his contact with the aliens. He kept in his pocket an old orange rind, which he said had sentimental value. He would occasionally pull it out, and look at it. He liked to look at it. It would sometimes turn green, and fuzzy, then powdery and black, and sometimes it turned hard and dark orange. When it was green and fuzzy he would sniff it, even though he knew it was bad for him.   
  
Begel intended to go back to the Aylves, who were tall and blonde and fair, and glowed. 'They glow so pretty,' he thought. 'I would very much like to see them before I expire.'   
  
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Wondering who it was, but fearing it may be his bothersome mean relations, he hesitantly opened the door. It was Gandriel (see note 1), the elf witch. Begel was so excited! She was coming to take him to the aliens!!   
  
Gandriel was a strange being. Part wizard, part elf, she was very incarnation of feminism. She wore her beard proudly, and yet no one noticed it and she was still proclaimed the most beautiful elf in the lands of Middle Earth. She said to Begel: "Begel, I smell something. You haven't still got that horrid rind, have you? (for she had visited him on occasion over the years, and always pestered him about his moldy rind) You should really toss that thing as soon as possible, and not keep it any longer. It really should be destroyed. But I know you are terribly addicted to it. Therefore let Frydough have it and be on your merry way. I will not escort you to the land of elves if you do not leave it behind, for it has a foulsome odour and will attract roaches in the sacred houses."   
  
These words struck Begel with force. He had grown fond of his rind, even though it was quite pungent, it was something he was accustomed to and shall we even say addicted to. Habbits will be Habbits. Yet the Quirk in him finally won out, and he laid it carefully on the table for Frydough, who wouldn't be home for hours. Gandriel quickly escorted him out the door before he could change his mind, and waving her magic wand transported him magickally to the land of the elves, where he had dreamed of being. The land of the elves was quite cool, and would preserve his shelf-life for many days to come, and he would rest easy. Gandriel stayed behind to see that the rind was properly disposed of. Many hours passed, and Frydough finally staggered home. He was part Bad Habbit, and always stayed out late, stumbling home near dawn. Stumbling, because his head was so large and his fair feet (for he was part Good Habbit) so small that he was perpetually off balance and stumbling about. Into Bagpipe End he staggered, and did not notice the good witch Gandriel sitting in the parlour by the fire. 'Frydough,' he heard, and looked sleepily into the parlour.   
  
"Gandriel!" he cried. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and yet was especially fond of her, being the Habbit of forward thinking that he was. He stumbled up to her and gave her a hug. 'What is that smell?' he thought to himself. Yet he said nothing, since Gandriel did not believe in soap, and never brushed her hair. 'Patchouli' he thought. 'It's gotta be Patchouli.'   
  
"Frydough, your uncle Begel has left the Fryer for cooler lands. He's gone to stay with the elves until the end of his shelf-life, and it will be a while yet. He has left Bagpipe End, and left everything to you, including his bagpipes. He has also left you his most prized possession, which I would see destroyed. Do you see that fuzz on yon table? Frydough looked in that direction, and was repulsed by the green blob on the table. 'So that's what smells so bad,' he thought. He wrinkled his nose. "What is that?"' he asked in disgust.   
  
"That is an old orange rind your uncle picked up from the corner of an elves' kitchen. I have no idea why he did it, except it must be the Quirk in him. He has kept it all these years in secret. It's very hazardous, and must now be destroyed."   
  
"I'm not touching that thing," said Frydough.   
  
"You must," said Gandriel. "No one else can be expected to do it. It was very hard to pry it from your uncle, but he has left it now and it has saved his life. If you do not clean it up, it will stink up all of Bagpipe End and eventually the whole Fryer. It will attract bugs, and they will invade and ruin everything. You must do this for the Fryer, Frydough."   
  
"Fine, then I will hire someone to bury it, and no one or nothing will ever know it's here. Will they Gandriel?"   
  
Gandriel looked at him. "Unfortunately I spied an ant leaving as I arrived. No doubt he was a scout, and in a short time he will be bringing his fellow ants back here and they will devour all the Fryer if this isn't removed. You must take this rind far away from here, to the land of Moldour, and there throw it into the already stinking depths of Moldour's disposal system."   
  
Frydough sighed. His days of warming himself in the hood were over. He would have to leave the Fryer, and make his way to strange lands in order to destroy this awful thing his uncle had so courteously left him.   
  
"I must go and attend to some business now, but I will meet you in the village of Bread, east of the Fryer." Just then a strange sound was heard in the kitchen. Gandriel grabbed her wand and ran into the kitchen, where Samwich Yamjam had jumped out of the refrigerator, and was standing right behind the wall to the parlour.   
  
"Samwich Yamjam!!!" cried Gandriel, grabbing Samwich and throwing him onto the table. "What were you doing outside of the fridge? Speak, before I turn you into a Hoagie!"   
  
"No, please don't turn me into a Hoagie! I didn't hear anything, nothing at all! I was just getting a little mayo, that's all!"   
disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and world owned by J.K. Rowling. This is for entertainment purposes only.:) 

  
HOME 


End file.
